Dudley Demented?
by neville 2.0
Summary: After all their years of trying to alienate themselves from it, the Wizarding World has absorbed the Dursleys into its midst. What is a muggle to do in such a strange place? Set directly after the last lines of the Dursley's departure in DH.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story was born from me wondering what happened to the Dursleys after they left. It's also done as a precursor to another story I planned, but first Dudley must go through all the changes. Anyway, hope this story is enjoyed. Updates, due to sporadic access to a computer, will be unpredictable, though I'll sincerely try not to let a gap over a week long come between them. On a final note, all characters belong to J.K Rowling, as does the world in which they reside.

**Dudley Demented?**

He was coming. The one whose name Dudley had heard Harry say, so defiantly, yet voice laced with a tightly controlled fear. Voldemort.

The name sounded as if it might belong to the final boss in a cheap, generic videogame. And yet, he was feared. Feared by people who could accomplish the most amazing feats with the wave of a small piece of wood. And now, because of that, Dudley's life had changed, and changed drastically. Not that it hadn't been changing before this, however.

He struggled to not look back as the car left the drive, resisting only because he knew how his parents felt about the situation. And, yet, he had the _urge _to look, to look back and assure himself that, somehow, Harry _was _going to save them.

He didn't really understand why he was so adamant to believe in Harry, he had certainly never cared about him before now. Or, actually, not since two years prior to now, shortly before the dementor attack.

He had been searching through Harry's room, intending to find out more about the Cedric person Harry kept yelling about in his sleep, when he had come across the floorboard. Harry had clearly been in a hurry, or perhaps angry the last time he had used it, as it had barely been put back at all, sticking up at a very obvious angle. Inside, he had found the letters.

Though never really renowned for his cognitive abilities, he had been able to fill the holes in the story the letters presented, and thus got his first view of what Harry's life was truly like.

He had suddenly felt sympathy for Harry, how anyone could live through all that pressure, to him, was a pure mystery. Yet, when he had left that room and rejoined his friends, he himself had been exposed to pressure. He found that he, again and again, began to rationalize the things he did, and could not bring himself to stop, lest his friends call him down for it. And then had come the dementors.

He remembered that day with a burning shame. He remembered the shock, not of the physical coldness that had suddenly permeated the air, but of the revelations of that night. For the first time, he saw himself for what he truly was… and he'd been horrified, horrified of continuing life that way.

Still, he remembered, despite that revelation the shock had been too much, and he'd lashed out at Harry, purely of reflex, looking for something, _someone_ to blame. That was the true origin of his shame. Rather than thank Harry for saving his life, his _soul, _he'd reacted with malice, exactly as he'd seen himself that night. And he had never thanked Harry. Not truly.

Instead, as soon as Harry had left, he had begun the most trying ordeal of his life. He'd instantly cut contact with his "friends", and tossed out all his cigarettes. In their place he'd turned all his attentions to his boxing, combating his loneliness and his addiction. And even boxing had changed. No longer did he set out to prove he could pummel the other guy, or throw subtle (or the even more common not-so-subtle) illegal punches. Losses no longer angered him as they'd used to, and he accepted hints and criticisms. Boxing had become something he loved, _and _something he needed, sending him to the next level. He'd never thanked Harry for that, either.

But he had begun to think, and to act, something he was sure Harry would prefer, anyway. Several times in the past two years he'd approached his parents about their stance on magic. Though nothing had come from those "discussions" but a lot of shouting, he felt the effort had been worth it. Of course, he also felt a bit lucky that shouting was all that had come of it. It wasn't as if he had been asking them to start taking double dates with magical couples or anything, just to find a logical reason for their dislike of magic.

Dedalus, quiet after giving up on striking conversation with Vernon, suddenly instructed Dudley's father to turn into the drive of a rather ramshackle building, one that reminded Dudley strongly of the hut on the rock they had stayed in, the year the letters had come. Vernon complied, pulling into the driveway, then putting the car in park. Only then did he look up to see the building, if it could be called that.

"What!?" He exclaimed, "We are not, we are _not _staying in this, this hovel!"

Hestia, seated beside his mother, behind Dedalus in the passenger seat, leaned toward the driver's seat, causing his mother to tense and pull back as far as possible into her own seat, looking as if she were trying to be absorbed through the material. She smirked, "Of course you're not."

"Wait, we're not?" Dudley was almost amused by the confusion in his father's voice. Almost, because he was just as confused.

"No. Now if you could so kindly put this car behind the _hovel_, we can apparate from there." The chill in her voice contradicted the warm summer night. Apparently she was still very angry with his father.

Vernon looked relieved, for a moment, his shoulders relaxing, then they visibly tightened again. "Why can't you just poof us from here?" He asked.

"The car would be more easily seen." Dedalus intervened, before Hestia could open her mouth. "We don't want anyone to find it too quickly, it would be best if they thought you just fled the house, like several of the other muggles who've noticed the strange goings-on. Best to keep it secret that you're with wizards as long as we can."

"Wh-wh-what!? We're leaving my _car_, at this dump?" His father started strong, clearly objecting to the very idea, but his voice grew weaker as Hestia's glare worked on him.

"Yes. If nothing else, this car is a fair trade for the lives of your wife and child. Is it not?" Hestia asked. Calmly. If a viper awaiting its prey in its pit was calm.

Vernon put the car into drive, and slowly brought it around behind the shack, hidden from the road, and without a word. As soon as the car was in park Dedalus got out, as did Hestia. His mother looked suddenly relieved at no longer being in such close proximity to the witch. They sat for a moment, then, seeing that neither of his parents looked about to move, Dudley took a gulp and opened his door.

His movement seemed to have snapped his parents back to reality, and they too got out. Vernon pressed the button to unlock the trunk. Dudley followed him around back only to see that the trunk was empty. Vernon opened his mouth to shout again, but a raised eyebrow from Hestia stopped him dead, mouth hanging open stupidly.

"We took the liberty of sending your belongings ahead of you." Hestia said, looking pleased that she already had Vernon so well tamed.

"Hurry!" Both Dedalus and his watch exclaimed, following Petunia to the back of the car. "We mustn't tarry, I imagine Harry has already gone from your house. We're behind schedule." He shot a look at Vernon, as if it had been his slow driving that had resulted in their timing. Perhaps it had been, at that.

"I will be taking two of you, Dedalus the other. All you need to do is grab onto my hand." Hestia explained, reaching out a hand towards them.

Dudley flinched back, along with his parents. It had sounded tolerable when it had just been a thought, but now memories were beginning to resurface. The giant snake winding its way straight toward him, the look on the surgeon's face when he saw exactly _what _he was operating on, after the giant, Hagrid had come, the dementors… No, the dementors had _not _been any good wizard's fault, of that he was sure. And Harry proved there were good wizards.

Harry… How fun had it been for Harry to come back and face the dementor attacking his cousin? Especially since he knew exactly what it was they could do. He must have been brave to do that, so very brave, and here Dudley was, afraid of taking a hand, a hand that meant him no harm. Well, he wouldn't stand for it, if Harry could be so brave, Dudley would try his best to emulate him. Slowly he moved forward, until he had her hand.

Hestia reached out her other hand, giving the other two Dursleys a stern look. "Now."

Tentatively Petunia made her war to Dedalus as Vernon grabbed Hestia's hand as if it were a used nose rag. Seeing the way his father was reacting, Dudley tried to relax his own muscles, act as if this were a normal, everyday occasion. Still, he realized, it would take more time before he would be used to this.

Without warning the world was gone and the ground no longer beneath his feet. Feeling as if he'd been shoved down one of those enclosed slides that happened to be a couple sizes too small, he increased his grip on Hestia's hand, nearly crushing the comparatively miniscule bones. Suddenly the ground was back beneath him, and her hand wrenched away.

"Hey!" Hestia screamed, "There was no need for that!"

"Sorry." Dudley breathed heavily, barely hearing himself over the throbbing of his heart.

For the first time that day, Hestia's face softened as she saw Dudley's state of being, and recognized his apology as heartfelt. "Sorry, I should have warned you what it would be like."

"Now Hestia, let's get moving. We're still not safe, you know." Dedalus said, appearing beside her with Dudley's mother in tow.

Dudley noticed they were on the edge of a small clearing surrounded on all sides by woods. Dedalus and Hestia began to walk towards the center of the clearing, and Dudley followed, trailed by his parents, both of whom were distinctly pale.

About a quarter of the way to the other end of the field, Dedalus stopped and waved his wand. Suddenly a large building appeared in front of them.

"Only a select few are given the security spell that allows access. Anyone else would have to break through a powerful series of barriers to gain entrance." Dedalus explained as he led the way inside.

"This house looks rather big." Dudley mentioned as he followed Dedalus through the front door. "Are there going to be more people than just us?"

"Are they going to be normal, like us?" Vernon asked right on top of him.

"Normal." Dedalus seemed to have tired of Vernon's constant stream of insults now, as well.

Looking towards Hestia nervously, Vernon rephrased his question. "I mean… uh, muggles, I think the boy called us."

"Yes, there will be other people here, and most of them muggles. But remember, they will all be here because, like you, they are related to a witch or wizard, and they are much more accepting than you, seeing as many of them have magical children. I'd be careful of insulting any of them."

As they made it through the door, Dudley was suddenly hit by the immensity of the house. The first floor alone looked to be just as large as the house had looked on the outside, and he spotted _two _flights of stairs, and a lift!

Turning to see Dudley's look of stupefaction, Dedalus smiled. "The house is magically expanded, on the inside. There are five floors. Your room is on the fifth floor, but we'll take the stairs, so you can receive a tour of what is to become your home for the foreseeable future."

Dudley looked around, aware that his parents were doing the same behind him, and noticed how the place strongly resembled one of the large hotels in London, with a few glaring differences. First was the lack of a receptionist's desk. The second was, though there was a lobby, there were not any television sets. Instead were several tables set up for various games, the only one of which he recognized being chess. Now that he looked at it, there wasn't anything to do with electricity. No computers, no ceiling fans, not even any lamps…

"Where's the light coming from?" Vernon asked, seemingly before he could help himself.

Seeing that Vernon obviously caught the answer before he'd finished his question, Dedalus ignored it. "As you can see, this is the lobby area, where you can interact with others who are in the same situation as you," he began, his voice taking on the tone of one who'd said the same thing various times, "It is also a common area to take meals, tables will be set up at mealtimes."

They followed Dedalus, Hestia disappearing somewhere along the tour. The first floor was mostly what Dedalus had outlined, a common area and dining room, but also, to Dudley's surprise, a training room, with a gym behind that. He took back his first observation of the building, it was certainly more than a hotel. On the way up the first flight of steps, Dudley was surprised to see that the pictures were moving.

Dedalus chuckled as Dudley mentioned this. "Ah, my favourite part about showing muggles around; you always show such surprise that the pictures are moving. Tell me, is it not muggles that sit around, watching moving pictures all day?"

Dudley realized he was talking about television. "Well, um… that's different." He muttered, though unable to think of why it was different.

"Yes, that's why there is a company called 'Motion Pictures', is it not?" Dedalus said, still chuckling.

With that they were on the second floor, which held a very large pool, an inside tennis court, and the Laundromat. And, just as he'd thought that was all, Dedalus had shown them the bowling alley. Dudley finally realized that, if anything, magic should be respected, considering the amazing feats it seemed capable of.

The third floor, to him was not so exciting, at first. Nearly completely taken up by a muggle-wizard combined library, with only a small section of computers as relief from the books ("and with high speed internet, all the muggles seem to _love _that fact…") he continued on, until catching movement from the corner of his eye. He stopped and turned. It was a girl.

He had seen people, at the chess tables, in the gym, and even an elderly couple in the stairwell, but he'd forgotten about people his age being here. And to think, he was here with a clean slate. No longer would people avoid the presence of "Big D", as Big D was, for all intents and purposes, dead. As she disappeared behind a bookshelf, he definitely considered wandering by the library sometime, as much as he hated reading.

It turned out that the fourth and fifth floors were dedicated entirely to residency, although not nearly all the rooms were filled. Their room was on the fifth floor. Dedalus stopped them outside their door.

"That's it. Now, to get in your room, all you need is this little card," he produced a scanning card exactly like the kind you would receive for your room at a hotel, "We got that idea from the muggles." He added as he handed it to Vernon, as if that would make him more comfortable. "Oh, and we will send you a house-elf for your dinner." Dedalus then left them, standing outside the room.

Vernon turned and swiped the card through the slot. The little light on the handle turned from red to green, and he took a moment to relish the moment of normalcy, before turning the handle and walking in.

The interior of the room much resembled a hotel room, with two large, comfortable looking beds, a writing desk, and, surprisingly, a television. Their stuff was waiting for them on the beds, stacked neatly. Suddenly a crack pierced the air, and a small, batty looking creature was in their midst. Dudley jumped back away from it, startled. The only thing he'd ever seen even resembling this creature was one of the evil gremlins.

No, wait, last year. He'd nearly forgotten through want of peaceful memories, but hadn't Harry called one of those creatures to his house? Yes, Kreacher. Remembering the unpleasant demeanor of the old, strange-looking creature he had met last year, he felt no more inclined to approach this one.

"Hello sirs, madam. What would you like to eat?" It asked in a high, squeaky voice.

Hadn't Harry muttered a lot about one of those, the year the Masons had come? Funny, how he now found himself trying to recall every word Harry had ever spoken within his hearing, hoping it would help him in this new setting. So far, though, between Harry's mutterings and the one he'd met, these creatures weren't looking that good. "What do you have?

"Anything, sir," the elf answered, looking relieved that someone was talking.

"In that case, get me… um…," Dudley didn't really feel like having to think of something to eat, "Whatever the most common choice is." He decided. He figured he'd like just about anything that anyone else did, so long as they weren't a bunch of vegetarians.

He watched as his mother decided to have the same thing he did, then turned to observe his father, beginning to look resigned to the nature of the situation they were in.

"Same as them, I guess." He finally said. The elf nodded, and with another crack, disappeared.

Standing in silence for a moment, Vernon was the first to break it, for the first time that day. "Might as well see what's on the television…" He muttered.

This was definitely going to be an interesting stay, Dudley thought to himself.

Chapter two preview:

Dudley is forced into social interaction, and just as

he begins to really love the place, he finds

just how dangerous the magical world

can be as tragedy strikes.


	2. Muscle and Magic

A/N: Okay, now that the scene is set, things can begin to happen. Hopefully this is where I will deviate from all the other stories out there with the same prompt.

**Chapter Two: Muscle and Magic**

Dudley woke the next morning as the sun crested the windowsill, shining in his face. The bed had, not surprisingly, been the most comfortable he had ever slept in. He sat up and stretched, involuntarily opening his mouth for a yawn that never came. In fact, he felt completely rested. Looking over to the other bed, he saw his parents sleeping, quite peacefully, and wondered what time it was.

Throwing off the strange feeling that comes after having slept at a strange place, one that was even more prevalent considering the extra strangeness of this place, he got up and took some clothes from the dresser that he'd put there just before bed the night before. Remembering his clean slate, he took the care to find some of his more conservative clothing, straying from garments entirely black, and leaving his leather jacket. Then, after a quick shower, he headed down to the lobby.

He ran into nobody on his way down, suspecting that it was probably a bit early for most to rise, and found only an old couple sitting in a corner, talking over a cup of coffee when he reached the lobby. Well, the old lady was talking; anyway, the old man happened to be reading a newspaper.

Looking at a clock, Dudley did a double take. It read seven o'clock, he never woke that early! At least it explained the presence of so few people. Having nothing else to do, he sat at a table. Instantly a house-elf appeared, and Dudley suddenly realized, if his father ever got used to the service the creatures provided, how fast Vernon's health would decrease.

"Good morning, sir. I trust you've had a nice sleep? What could I get you?" The elf spoke.

"Umm…" Dudley started, stunned by the elf's rapid-fire speech that sounded very much like another language. "Just-just a coffee."

"Black, Café au Lait, Cafe Breva, Macchiato…"

"Just, just black." Dudley answered, once again amazed at the variety coffee offered. His father was very interested in different coffees, and often tried to get Dudley to try them all. Before his thought was finished the elf was back, presenting a mug of black coffee.

"Thank you." Dudley said, taking it.

"Not at all, sir. Not at all. Just call Minks, should you be needing me again, sir." And with that the elf was gone.

Dudley just shook his head, and was about to take a sip of his coffee when he realized what he'd just done. He'd interacted with a creature whose existence he had only truly known for a year, and had never been exposed to before now, and had practically taken it for granted! How was it that, already, he had come to accept such a creature. Perhaps, after the Dementor, a house-elf wasn't all that bad.

He moved to take a sip again, when he was suddenly attacked, attacked would be the best word for it, by a fairly bushy blur.

"You're new here, aren't you?" The girl asked, making the elf's speech seem slow and deliberate. Dudley just barely recovered enough not to spill the coffee all over himself. Blasted girl, coming up on him like that. What was she thinking?

Before he could answer she opened her mouth again, showing off a missing tooth, "That's great. So, you're a muggleborn too, like my sister? But, you look like you could be of age. Guess it'd still be dangerous, though…" The girl stopped to take a breath, and in the intervening time he was saved. Placing a hand on the young girl's shoulder, another girl, this one older, his age, appeared.

"Sorry if my sister is bothering you, we just haven't seen anyone new in a while." She apologized, smiling. Dudley wondered if this had been the girl he'd seen yesterday, near the library, but it wasn't. This one had long, brown hair, and was taller than the one he remembered. Almost as tall as himself.

"Oh, it's okay, she's not bothering me." Dudley answered, suddenly feeling much more amicable toward the little girl.

"So, are you muggleborn, then?" The older girl asked, taking the seat across from his, obviously starved for information just as much as her little sister.

Dudley was taken aback. Never before had a girl actually sat at the same table as him, let alone actually talked to him.

"Um... muggleborn, what does that mean again?" Dudley asked after a moment's pause. He had not wanted to show off his ignorance, but he simply couldn't recall what the name meant.

"Well, obviously you're not one. A muggleborn is a witch or wizard with muggle parents. So you're a muggle. No magic?"

"Yeah, I guess so." What was wrong with him? He had never been so frozen in his life, so nervous. Of course, then again, he'd never had a real conversation with a girl before, either.

"So, who do you know that's a witch or wizard, sadly they can't just let any muggle wander in."

Dudley thought for a second, trying to remember where Harry had received his wizarding talents from. Now he really wished he had paid more attention in school, just to develop a memory, at least. "My cousin, Harry, his mom was a muggleborn, I think."

"Harry? What's your name?" She looked intrigued, though her little sister had become bored of the conversation when she had heard he was a muggle, and had left the two alone.

"Dudley. Dudley Dursley." He answered, wondering what its significance was.

"Oh," she looked a bit disappointed, then brightened up, "So, have you heard any news from outside? They don't tell us much, here."

"What kind of news, you mean the disappearances?" Dudley asked, hoping to please her.

"No, I mean, something big, you'd know if you heard any." She looked disappointed again.

They sat in silence for a few moments, before Dudley thought up another conversation topic. "So, you are muggleborn."

"Yes, I am." She said, smiling, "You can't imagine the shock my parents went through. They're strict Roman Catholic, didn't really believe in magic."

"Wow, I can imagine." Dudley said with a chuckle, remembering the day the letters for Harry had come streaming out of the chimney. And his parents _had _believed in magic. "And you go to, to Hogwarts, I think?"

"Yup, I've gone there six years, but I'm sure Harry's told you all about Hogwarts."

"No, not really. We were never that close…" Dudley put it mildly.

"Oh, that's too bad." She said. Her eyes rose from Dudley's face to somewhere above it. "Hello."

Dudley looked up to see his parents standing behind him, and they clearly wanted to talk. Dudley rose and extended his hand to the girl. "Nice meeting you…"

"Sierra. And nice to meet you, Dudley. Talk to you another time, I hope." She said, releasing his hand and walking over to her sister.

As Sierra left, Dudley's parents moved to the other side of the table, so they were facing him. Looking around to be sure all were out of earshot, his mother leaned in and let out a fierce whisper.

"Dudley, what are you thinking, leaving the room without us. I-"

"Mum, I'm seventeen. I think I can look out for myself in this place." Dudley interrupted. Here they were again, treating him like some small child, like ickle-Duddykins, the very behaviour that had caused him to bully and smoke. And God did he need a smoke now, a craving he had not felt a few moments ago.

"Do Not interrupt your mother, and No, you cannot look out after yourself, none of us can! You know what kind of people are here."

Vernon whispered fiercely, leaning as far as he could over the table, mustache quivering. Looking into that face, Dudley drew upon his newfound courage, his last gift from Harry.

"Dad, if they wanted to hurt us, they could have already done so. All they have done is try to help, and you continue to be, uh, prejudiced against them! Maybe they're not as bad as you think!" It surprised Dudley slightly that, for the first time he could remember, he was the one injecting logic into the situation.

Vernon just stared at him, his face a bright red, but staying relatively normal compared to his other tantrums, the ones Harry had invoked.

"It's that girl, isn't it? She's promised you things, to get you on _their_ side!"

Dudley was surprised, appalled, to hear his dad be so accusing. Had he really always been this way? Had Dudley always accepted it? "No dad, it was Harry. Harry convinced me. I just wish he could have convinced you, as well. Now, if you don't mind, or if you do, I'm going to go work out."

Dudley got up and walked towards the room Dedalus had shown them the day before, with the weights. Working out had always helped with the aggression brought on by the lack of nicotine he was putting himself under, he just hoped it would work on the extra factor of his parents. He was glad that Sierra, now playing a game he didn't recognize with her sister by the chessboards, had her back turned to him, and could not see the expression on his face.

The first few days at the refugee hotel flew by. After he had shaken off his parents (who were still too intimidated by the environment to do much looking for him) Sierra had introduced him to the other teenagers in the place. Kerri and Min were two muggle girls, both fifteen, who were always following the one year older Sierra around, when they weren't mooning over one Justin Finch-Fletchly. He'd also quickly bonded with Brian, a muggle boxer like himself (though he much preferred basketball, he said, especially when playing against people as big as Dudley…).

The first couple days they had spent their time in the sports rooms, tennis, bowling, basketball, Sierra surprising them all with a two-twenty game on the bowling. As time wore on, however, the girls slowly ended up dragging them, Justin, Brian and himself, to the most dreaded of hangouts, the library.

Surprisingly, it hadn't ended up as torture. In fact, Dudley began to actually feel good about his brains, one of the many insecurities he'd tried to cover with his bullying. As it had turned out, he hadn't even needed to touch the books, either. Computers could be used for things other than videogames!

Of course, when night came and he had to return to his room, he received an earful, especially if he started talking about Sierra, as he occasionally did, to get at his father. For the first time in his life, his relationship with his parents was truly in danger. But if they didn't want to change their ways, he wasn't sure if he _wanted_ a relationship with them. More and more he looked forward to his time with Brian and Sierra. That was why, one night, when he received a message from a house elf sent by Sierra, he found himself hurrying to the library.

Outside the library, he met Brian, also walking briskly. "You too?" Dudley asked as Brian walked up.

He nodded. "Wonder what it's about."

They both turned and stepped into the library to be quickly grabbed by the arms and pulled over to a small table, where sat Min, Kerri, and a radio. "Come on, you've got to hear this."

"And remember, the first password will be Moony. This is River, introducing Potterwatch."

"That's amazing?" Brian asked, clearly as confused as Dudley.

"Didn't you hear its name? It's a radio station that actually supports Harry Potter. And, so far, he's managed to escape notice, to stay alive!"

"So?" Brian asked. Behind Sierra, Kerri and Min were giggling, already removed from the conversation.

"So that means he's doing good, on his mission, doesn't it?" Dudley asked, drawing Sierra's murderous gaze from Brian.

"Wait… how do you know? I could understand _you _not knowing, what with your parents." She asked, clearly thinking Dudley had knowledge he shouldn't.

"He mentioned it, screamed it, really, in his sleep, screamed about needing to kill-"

"Harry Potter's your cousin!" Sierra exclaimed, "but I thought you said your surname was Dursley."

"He's on my mothers side." Dudley explained, a little confused. Even muggleborns knew his cousin?

"Oh." Sierra said, suddenly becoming quiet and, looking over her shoulders at the girls, who didn't seem to have noticed her outburst, continued in a quieter voice. "So, you're Harry Potter's cousin. I can't believe it."

"What's so important about this Harry Potter?" Brian asked, still bemused.

"He's the one that will bring the downfall of You-Know-Who." Sierra said excitedly.

"Voldemort?" Dudley said, drawing the name from the recesses of his mind, remembering the tone of hatred that Harry used while saying it, and the fear in Sierra's voice when she said You-Know-Who.

Sierra gave a squeal and jumped. "You said his name." She whispered, wide eyed.

"So, Harry did it all the time." Dudley said, taken aback at her reaction.

Sierra just shook her head, drawing her wand, for the first time that Dudley had seen.

"I thought you said you couldn't use magic, that you were underage and they could track you." Dudley said, Brian looking completely lost.

"It doesn't matter, River just explained it, the names Taboo, they'll be here any second." She paused, thinking, "Come on, we have to go!"

She grabbed Dudley's hand, and they began to run out of the library, leaving Brian, Kerri, and Min.

"We must find Hestia." She panted as she led Dudley down the stairs at a reckless pace. The reached the landing of the second floor, and Sierra turned them tightly, heading toward Hestia's office. Sierra barely slowed down as she entered the office, swinging the door open with her wand.

Sitting at her desk, Hestia looked up from her reading, startled. Seeing the look on Sierra's face, she asked, "What's happened?"

Sierra looked at Hestia, biting her lip for a second, before answering. "He, he said You-Know-Who's name, but-"

"Well, come on then! We have to get everyone upstairs. They're probably already bringing down the barriers. I told Dedalus…"

She pushed her way between them and ran out into the hall. Dudley looked over to Sierra, and saw a realization in her eyes.

"There's going to be a fight, isn't there? Because of me and my mouth?" Dudley asked, hoping maybe, just maybe he was mistaken, that maybe there was an escape plan.

"Yes, yes there is." She muttered, staring into the distance.

Seeing the look of fear on her face, Dudley wanted to make it up, to fix his mistake. "Go upstairs, I'm going to go and fight. Protect your parents, your sister. My parents." He urged, beginning to pull her out of the office.

"Dudley, you can't fight, you won't be able to defend yourself." She looked to be near tears.

"What do you mean? It's my fault this is happening, I _have_ to fight." Dudley couldn't actually believe that she didn't want him fighting, to correct his mistake.

"But… but how would you fight?" She asked, acting as if she were presenting a logical argument, though she should have known very well just how he would fight. "You can't use magic."

"You can dodge spells, right? And they can be hurt by regular objects."

"Yes, but…"

"So I'm going." Hell if he wouldn't fix his mistake, if he wouldn't look good to the first person who'd accepted him as a better person.

"Then I'm going with you. They'll have others, guarding the upstairs. I can use magic, I'll help you where I can." The look of resolve on her face was final, and she radiated determination. Dudley nearly protested, but the thought of facing magic alone stopped him.

Suddenly there was a blast from downstairs, and they rushed to the staircase, descending rapidly. Below, in the lobby, about twenty adults with wands stood facing the entrance. Someone whistled behind him.

"Wow, that's not looking good." Justin Finch-Fletchely commented, pointing towards the entrance, from which a long line of wand-wielding, dark robed figures emerged.

With a cry of "Expelliarmus" that sent a jet of red light toward the doorway, Sierra charged down the stairs, followed by Justin. Dudley followed close behind, watching as the twenty defenders sent spells into the midst of the darkrobes, most of which simply seemed to evaporate in the air as they neared their targets. Upon reaching the first floor, Dudley realized he didn't have a weapon. Scanning the room, he quickly noticed a broom lying in the corner, most likely abandoned by a house-elf as news of the attack came. Seeing nothing better, he quickly removed the bristles, and turned back to the entrance.

He watched as Sierra and Justin, now joined with the adults, cast spells towards the entrance. Dudley followed that line until he saw the group of darkrobes. As the darkrobes continued marching through the explosion-enlarged doorway, Dudley's horrified mind was taking a rough estimate of their numbers. Not counting four that had fallen in the initial attack, there were about forty darkrobes. They were outnumbered two to one.

Then Dudley realized, with a sudden pain in his chest, that he had been standing there, counting while the darkrobes had split the resistance into groups. He and Sierra were now separated. Searching through the groups of three and four, he began walking the edge of the room, hoping no one would take notice of him. He finally spotted her, beside Justin and Hestia, fighting a group of three darkrobes.

Suddenly movement caught in his peripheral vision, and he spun, holding the broom handle ready to swing. The darkrobe, who was fairly scrawny and had about him an air of stupidity that Dudley was sure he couldn't have matched at any point in his life, looked at him incredulously. "Where's your wand, boy?" He sneered, not even holding up his own.

"Don't need one." Dudley replied as he swung the broom handle at the man's face. The man, as his scrawny build would suggest, was certainly agile, and he was able to begin to jump back as Dudley's broom handle swung towards him, but his years of boxing had given Dudley an agility that belied his size, and the handle caught, right below the ear. With one sharp cry that rose above the shouted incantations, he hit the ground and was still.

Dudley turned back to Sierra's group to see they were still in a deadlock, her enemies with their backs to him. Quickly spotting the man who was throwing spells the fastest, Dudley took two running strides and swung at the back of the man's neck, connecting with a solid _thwack_.

In the time it had taken Dudley to do this, however, the man had unleashed two spells, both at Justin, who was quickly tiring. Dudley missed which of the spells did it, but the next thing he knew, Justin's arm was completely severed and blood began to spurt from the wound.

As Dudley stared, transfixed by the gruesome sight, Sierra screamed for him to look out. Her scream came fast enough for him to turn and see one of the other darkrobes pointing his wand at him. Dudley readied another swing, but was unpleasantly surprised when a spell shot from the wand without any incantation as warning. Quickly reversing the direction of his swing, he maneuvered the broom handle in one last-ditch attempt to block the spell, and closed his eyes.

There was a small explosion, and then the feeling of the broom handle being wrenched away. Next came the hot, stinging pricks over his face and bare arms as the splinters pelted him. The concussion of the blast knocked him to the floor. Then, all he knew was blackness.

A/N: Ouch. Wonder what happens next… I'll try to update as fast as possible, so stay tuned.


	3. Darkness

Dudley Demented chapter three: Darkness

Darkness. Darkness and silence. All there was, darkness and silence. Time passed. How he knew it passed, he didn't know. Time passed, and still no thoughts came. No sensation. Nothing to sense.

_Perhaps this is death._

The thought slid over the darkness as if on ice, but still it registered. With an effort of will, he grabbed onto the thought, used it to hold onto himself.

_Perhaps this is death._

_Is it?_

The second thought came as the first. Smaller, but bigger, than the first. Feeling as if he were gaining strength, he latched onto that thought, too. With an effort of will he brought them together, gave them meaning.

_Perhaps this is death. Or is it?_

Suddenly a sensation came. Two sensations. He itched, over his front, his back, he itched. The itching burned, but it was still an itch. And, on top of him, was a weight.

_Dirt?_

But the weight was comforting. He doubted that dirt would comfort, even in death. Holding to that thought, to his curiosity, he pulled himself up…

And opened his eyes to see the moon, shining down through the canopy of a large oak. The itching, and the burning, still remained, but he could see. And hear. All around, crickets chirruped, lending the night a peaceful quality that Dudley didn't believe it deserved. Not after…

_A green flash, screams, his weapon wrenched away, the burning as bits of the broomhandle burrowed into his flesh…_

Looking down, into his lap, Dudley found the source of the comforting weight he had felt. Sierra was lying, head on his lap, face red from tears shed shortly before. A few feet away lay her wand, as if thrown. Suddenly, looking at the wand, laying in the grass, Dudley realized that they were no longer where they had been. Not even close. Quickly he shook Sierra awake.

It did not take much, just the shifting that put him into position so that he could gently shake her was enough to wake her. With a quick look around her, she suddenly burst into tears, wrapping her arms tightly around Dudley.

"They're gone," she sobbed, stuffing her face into his chest, "Mom, dad, Haley, they're all gone!" she collapsed, as much as she could with them already being on the ground, and continued to sob. Not knowing what to do, Dudley awkwardly patted her back as he thought.

_We're not at the hideout. That much is sure. Sierra must have gotten us here. So now what do we do? If she's to be believed, that means the darkrobes won. Which means that they have her family… which means… they have _my _family._

Dudley turned his thoughts from the battle, from the implications of Sierra's words, and instead focused upon comforting her.

"It's okay. It'll all be okay." He said, giving a small squeeze and thinking to himself that he sounded stupid. But it seemed to work, and slowly the sobs died down. Slowly, Sierra quieted and relaxed, until Dudley was sure that she was, once more, asleep.

In the returned stillness of the night, Dudley decided that waking her, asking her questions, could wait until the morning. Slowly he lowered himself back to the ground, moving Sierra as little as possible, so that she lay comfortably on his chest, mostly off the ground.

Suddenly he became aware of her form, as small and pretty as she was, lying against him, and he felt a trickle of sweat run down his forehead. Cringing at the expected sting from the cuts the exploded broom was sure to have made, he became surprised at the lack of pain. Feeling his forehead with the hand Sierra was not lying across, he was surprised to find the skin smooth, perfectly untouched.

_Tomorrow. Questions can wait until tomorrow._

Sierra's weight returned to be comforting, if not still a _little_ awkward, and slowly he, too, drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Haley awoke slowly to a loud, disturbing sound. Shaking her head, and ignoring the soreness of her body, she turned towards the source of the noise. Her eyes didn't travel far before they fell upon the form of a hulking mass farther back in the stone cell. Gasping, she quickly scrambled away, thinking perhaps that her captors had locked her away with a giant. Upon standing up, however, she caught a glimpse of the face, and sighed in relief. It wasn't a giant at all, she noticed, but the Dursley man, the one related to Dudley. And he was just snoring.

Cautiously she approached Dursley senior, wanting to wake him up, but also intimidated by his snoring, and by the moods that he had had back at the hideout.

"So, the boy's uncle, is it? Ooh, and a tiny little morsel! You didn't mention her, Scabior."

"I thought to surprise you."

Haley turned to see two men coming to a stop outside the cell. One was small, with sharp angles defining his cruel, calculating face, while the other was large, with a smattering of grey hair that led to long, fur-like sideburns. All over the large man's face, and arms, white scars criss-crossed each other, creating an indecipherable history of violence.

"Well, the Dark Lord has no need of the small muggle, does he? I think I'll take her now." The large man said, removing a pair of keys from a ring attached to his belt.

"Just hurry," Scabior said in a warning voice, "we don't need you… indisposed should the Potter boy be found. Or should the Dark Lord call."

"You can't rush things like this, Scabior," he was now replacing the keys on the ring. Haley backed away into the cell, becoming truly afraid. "Can you, sweety?"

The gaze from the man made Haley shiver, and also made her want to cover herself even more than her clothing did, for some reason.

"Well, try to." Scabior said with a sigh. Fenrir Greyback didn't show any sign of a temper, for once, at Scabior's warnings. Without a further word, Scabior left Greyback alone with the two in the cell. He had no desire to see the infamous work rumoured to come from his companion.

Haley squeaked as Greyback's gaze turned back to her, following the slamming of a distant door. "Come now, sweety, don't be like that. It'll all be over soon enough."

Haley shrank back into the farthest corner of the cell, putting as much space between her and the werewolf. Beside her, she noticed, the Dursley was attempting to stand up.

"What- What's this now?" Vernon grunted, turning to face the floor so he could use both his hands and his knees to get up.

"Nothing to concern you." Greyback responded, pausing a moment to smirk as the Dursley shifted his bulk about the floor, finally finding purchase and using the wall to brace himself.

"I don't know where the Hell we are, or what we're doing here, but…" Vernon trailed off as Greyback stepped forward, grinning to show teeth that, somehow, just didn't seem human.

"Good fatso." Greyback said in response to Vernon's silence. He turned back to Haley.

"But, I do know what you're thinking and- and, I won't stand for it." Vernon finished, taking a step between Greyback and Haley.

"That's nice." Greyback growled. Almost nonchalantly, Greyback delivered a swift backhand, knocking Vernon back, then grabbed the thick neck. Not even looking at his opponent, the werewolf beat Vernon's head against the wall, then allowed him to crumple to the floor.

"Now… where were we, sweety?"

"Stay away!" Haley yelled, thrusting her arms out as if to push him away. Much to her surprise, and even more so to Greyback's surprise, he was thrown back against the wall, outside of the cell. At the same moment, Scabior came rushing into the dungeons.

"I told you, Greyback, we haven't the time! He's called us. The Dark Lord requires our presence immediately!"

"Fine!" Greyback yelled, returning to his feet. "I'll come back for you later, darling, don't forget me."

Scabior retrieved the keys from where they'd fallen on the floor, and hurriedly locked the cell, before running up the stairs after Greyback.

In the back corner of her cell, beside the unconscious body of Vernon Dursley, Haley began to cry.

* * *

A/N:

This is a scene that I, admittedly, can't believe I almost didn't write. I'm a horrible person, abandoning the story for so long. I mean, what else can cure Vernon of his lamentable state, if not being locked in a dungeon with an eleven year old girl that is more capable than he is at beating the werewolf? I would very much like to thank Elizashizzle, for being the only reason that this story continued. Now that I'm back to writing this, I remember just how enjoyable the whole experience is. I'm sure that this fic is now back on its way to completion. Thanks for reading!


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